


To Keep Each Other Warm

by dixiehellcat



Series: Two Roads Diverged [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, F/M, Fluff, Inspired by Twitter, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Pepperony - Freeform, jackets, mostly canon timeline, the Russos whomst, wait what? you'll see
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-05-02 10:12:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19196752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dixiehellcat/pseuds/dixiehellcat
Summary: Pepper knows Tony is always cold, so why is it never him who ends up wearing his jacket?





	To Keep Each Other Warm

**Author's Note:**

> This little story was sparked by a delightful tweet! I'm linking it in the end notes because it would be sort of a spoiler if I put it up here. :D
> 
> For those who are reading my Wordsmith series, this is not set in that verse, though it may have some similarities...hehe.
> 
> Oh, and in the last segment where Pepper and Tony are texting, their dialogue is set off by pairs of colons, but you would probably figure that out. lol

Genius billionaire playboy philanthropists were expected to put in appearances at a lot of places. Pepper Potts had found this out very shortly after taking on the job of Tony Stark’s personal assistant. Odd places, often, especially once one came to know even a little bit about the man and his own preferred activities. Tony would much rather have been in the basement of his mansion tinkering with some old car, but instead he was swanning around a high-dollar charity tennis tournament. He managed to look the part, in his prep-school outfit with a light sweater tied around his shoulders. Of course, he had tried to talk Pepper into wearing a tiny tennis dress. “So you’ll fit in, Miss Potts!” he had insisted. She had thankfully demurred, although she had bowed to the setting enough to wear the nicest sleeveless linen blouse and skirt she owned.

As the spring afternoon began to fade into evening, though, cool breezes began to blow. Pepper laid her StarkTab on a nearby bench and rubbed her arms surreptitiously, wondering just how much longer Mr. Stark planned to stay. He was still schmoozing, working the crowd. In another life, he might have made a good politician. Maybe. She glanced around, but had lost him amid the throng of well-heeled Wimbledon wannabes. (Tony had not signed up to take a turn on the courts. Sportsball, his generic term for all things athletic, was not his thing.) After a moment, Pepper spotted him weaving through the crowd heading her way. He had untied the sweater around his neck, and he held it out to her. “Here, hold this for me. It’s getting in my way. One sleeve almost went in some old guy’s drink, and getting it dry cleaned is going to be a pain in the ass.”

“I do manage your dry cleaning now, Mr. Stark,” she reminded him with a mischievous half-smile, but she took the sweater anyway. It was lightweight and so soft, like holding a cloud. “Cashmere?”

“Alpaca,” he said with a grin. “Better thermal insulation qualities and more environmentally sustainable.” He flitted off again, like the social butterfly he was. Pepper stood for a moment, awkwardly clutching the thing; then another breeze raised goosebumps on her arms. _Surely he wouldn’t mind if I put it on_ , she thought. Wearing it would be so much easier than carrying it around. _Oh gosh, did I put on deodorant?_ The knit probably cost more than her week’s pay, she worried as she slipped it on, so if something happened to it, she’d have to pay him back in installments. 

_Unless you persuaded him to take it out in trade,_ a naughty corner of her brain supplied. Horrified at herself, she smacked the thought aside, but it was too late. With a toe in the door, the feelings she most certainly was not supposed to be having for her boss rushed in. Her eyes were already following him around; there was so much she was drawn to about Tony Stark, beyond just how handsome he was. The way he always moved his hands when he talked about his interests, the way she could tell just from his posture if the conversation interested him or not…the way the hair on the back of her neck stood up and she wanted to snarl when a shapely socialite in one of those tiny tennis dresses practically rubbed herself all over him…

Pepper hauled herself back to reality. In any case, right now, she had the sweater, and he was right, it was insanely warm for its feathery weight, and snuggly soft. She sternly reminded herself to give it back promptly; he was going to be so busy the next few days, and she had to make sure his trips were organized, so it was going to be easy to forget a small item like that. She made herself a note on her tablet, then reviewed his upcoming engagements. In three days, he had to fly to Vegas for that award presentation with Rhodey, and the very next day, back in the air to Afghanistan for the big Jericho missile demo for the military brass…Pepper sighed, and shrugged a little deeper into Tony’s sweater, and admitted for a moment that she really liked how it smelled just a bit of him.

+++

The only imaginable job more stressful than a billionaire industrialist’s personal assistant, Pepper had decided months ago, was a superhero’s personal assistant, especially when said superhero was still a billionaire industrialist too. While Tony had planned in broad strokes what he intended the Stark Expo to be, it had fallen to Pepper to make those broad strokes into a picture that made sense and a system that functioned. 

With only a few days to go until the Expo launch, this promotional gathering was an informal sneak peek for sponsors, media and, unfortunately, some competitors. As always, Tony would be in his element, she knew, pressing the flesh and tooting his own horn. That was her expectation, at any rate. On the day in question, however, he was off in Central America rescuing some stranded mountain climbers. (It was a good thing the Iron Man suit had a built-in heater, she reflected. He had always gotten cold easily, even before Afghanistan, and never to her knowledge went anywhere without a coat of some sort at hand.) So, here she was, hustling around, phone practically glued to her ear, dressed for a red carpet, while he was off being a hero. Not that she didn’t think it was great, the way he seemed to have turned his life around as he had his company, no longer the shallow and self-centered mogul, but, for all his initial protests to the contrary, the one out helping people in need. She worried, though. Pepper had to admit it, she worried about Tony, so much she sometimes lost track of herself. She couldn’t let that happen, she firmly reminded herself. He was her employer, and as fond as he seemed to be of her, as important as he made her feel and as much as he treated her as his equal, she was still only his assistant. 

For the moment, she was just wondering if he would make it back from Costa Rica in time for the event. Her concerns were unnecessary; he showed up only a couple of minutes late, just about the time the gathered dignitaries were starting to murmur and scuffle, and he was impeccably turned out in dress shirt and slacks, and a blue velvet jacket with—was that a fancy brooch on the lapel near the left side of the collar? _Really, Tony?_ Pepper thought, amused. It wasn’t that she cared; he was downright metrosexual that way. She did, however, entertain the thought that she might ask to borrow the both of them the next time she wore this dress, because they would look perfect with it. The pin almost echoed the beaded design, she remarked as she smoothed the fabric of her garment, and the shading of the velvet was so rich and tonal it was a piece of art itself. 

Pepper was sitting for much of the time, taking notes and double-checking the exhibitors’ lists, making sure supplies were ordered and food vendors had allergy signs posted. She didn’t sit often at such gatherings, and instead of the climate-controlled main pavilion building, which was being finished right now, the kickoff was being held in a—well, basically a big tent pitched on the plaza in front. Rain was predicted for late that night, and the cool wind that began to whip up said the forecasters were accurate. A breath slid up her neck where her hair was put up and gave her a chill.

Tony, being Tony, had ducked out at some point, but she looked up just then and their eyes met. Wouldn’t you know, he had parted ways with both that great jacket and his necktie at some point; his sleeves were rolled up and a smudge of grease adorned one cheekbone. Pepper had to fight back a smile; that was the real Tony, not the flighty playboy people still by and large thought him to be, who she had thought him to be for a long time. He poured himself into everything he did, and it was good to see him thinking about making a difference, planning for the future. 

A man walked up to Tony and started to speak, but he waved him off and trotted her way, making a quick detour toward a chair to grab—ah, there was the jacket. “Hey Potts, keep up with this for me?” She nodded, as if he really had to ask. Instead of folding it over his arm or handing it to her, he took her hand and pulled her to her feet, then draped it around her shoulders. He fiddled with it for a moment, then stepped back and eyed it seriously, the way she wished he would look at the art they bought together. “Yep. Suits you. Thought so. Keep it.” 

He scampered away, leaving her sputtering. He was right, though. It did suit her. She just hoped he didn’t start giving all his clothes away.

+++

Pepper might have known. When the day came that Tony made things between them official, it was going to be anything but conventional. She had scheduled a massive press conference at the Avengers’ compound, for the introduction of the newest team member, only to find at the absolute last minute that Spider-Man was declined. The kid had turned down the offer. She was shocked, but Tony seemed oddly pleased, proud even. 

So what do you do with a room full of journalists eager for the story of the year? You give it to them, of course. Except in this case, the story was Tony making a brief statement about his history as Iron Man, how Stark Industries was still so important to him, how Pepper had built it into something he didn’t think he could have accomplished, and how he’d never been quite sure whether to be offended or amused when people accused her of sleeping her way to the top. “Miss Potts worked her way to the top, because she is the best business mind I have ever known. Her personal life with me has rarely if ever crossed paths with my life as Iron Man, or as the Stark on the side of the building. It’s about to, today, because there’s a merger I want to propose, and I thought you might be interested in being here for it.” 

And yes, with that, he pulled that ring out of his pocket (the one Happy swore he had been carrying around since 2008, and really, how could that be, there was no way Tony could have wanted her to be his that far back, was there?). While she stood with her mouth frankly agape, he pushed the podium aside, got down on one knee (with a grunt; those knees of his weren’t as young as they used to be), looked up at her with a face as full of hope and fear as she had ever seen, and said, “Pepper Potts, would you do me the honor of making an honest man out of me?”

She could have blown her stack. She could have quietly shaken her head and walked away, and _then_ blown her stack in private at him for putting her on the spot like that. She could also, she supposed, have sprouted wings and flown, but that was about as likely as any option other than meeting those beautiful bottomless brown eyes, sniffling back a sudden tear, and saying _yes_.

On the whole, the press were far more enthusiastic and delighted than she would ever have expected, but their questions seemed to go on forever. Happy stood in the back of the big media room with a smirk on his face that would probably require a crowbar to remove. Eventually, the crush of cameras and microphones began to thin, and the room that had been uncomfortably warm earlier became uncomfortably cool to Pepper. 

Tony was still going strong; she wasn’t sure she had ever seen him more animated about anything, even the biggest corporate projects or the newest Iron Man suit. She perched her backside on the edge of a small table pushed up against one wall, so she could remove one shoe and wiggle her sore toes. Tensing her muscles to hold back a shiver, she eyed the heavy curtains that draped the walls for acoustics, fingered one to assess its warmth factor, and pondered whether she could slide in between a couple and envelop herself in them, just for a minute, without being thought totally unhinged. She really supposed she shouldn’t be as stubborn as she was about bringing a wrap to functions, but this hadn’t been intended to be ‘her’ function, for heaven’s sake! More often than not, she just didn’t think of it, and when she did, she didn’t want to bother, or hated to admit to getting chilly.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Tony coming her way, talking a mile a minute to a reporter while he shrugged out of his suit jacket. He slung it over his arm to free both hands to loosen his tie, then took it back up and stepped in. Never missing a word of the conversation, he picked up Pepper’s hand and slid her arm into the sleeve, reached around behind her, and repeated the action on her other side. She looked up in some surprise, to find him smiling softly. “Give me a minute?” he asked.

She nodded. A minute, when he was wound up (and that was a science reporter with him, a woman who used to work for some scandal sheet or other, Pepper thought, but who was listening to him hold forth on core engine technology like there was no place in the world she would rather be) would probably be much longer. She could wait, though; she had waited, and he always came back. His jacket, still warm from his body heat, wasn’t quite as good as him warming her up himself, but it would do for now. 

Pepper adjusted the sleeves, freeing the ring he had just put on her finger where it had gotten snagged on a thread. She gazed down at it and smiled, knowing they would have all the time in the world to keep each other warm.

+++

It was a mild and sunny morning in New York when Pepper and Tony set off on their usual jog around Central Park. Granted, it often ended up being something less than a jog. Tony walked and talked more than he ran, but Pepper didn’t mind that. The jacket of his athletic suit ended up tied around his neck, until she untied it to make a point about the new arc reactor—excuse me, Mr. Stark, not an arc reactor, a nanobot housing—and it wound up wrapped around his waist.

It bothered her, that after all the drama, all the danger, all the times she had come so close to losing him, he still couldn’t let go of being a hero. He never seemed to feel he had done enough. Honestly, Pepper didn’t know if he ever would. This morning, though, he was talking about starting a family, babbling excitedly about this dream he had had that she was pregnant. He was adorable, even when she had to gently assure him that she would be the first to know if she was expecting. Maybe that was a good sign, his subconscious nudging him toward a more stable life—

And _then_ , of course, a ring of fire had to appear in the air and spit out a guy in a magician’s cape, and Bruce Banner. Bruce looked like hell, and fell into Tony’s alarmed but open arms, and almost before she could marshal more than a couple of words, Tony was gone with them, off to save the world again. At least she knew he had his jacket with him. How crazy, she contemplated, trying not to fret, the little things you thought about when the big things were too big to wrap your head around.

+++

A girl with blue skin, who looked half-robot at that, helped Tony down out of the spaceship Carol Danvers had just deposited on the grass. Pepper gathered him in her arms, and Rhodey helped her get him inside the compound’s main building. Steve and the other Avengers stood at a short distance, Steve’s face betraying his guilt. _Good_ , Pepper thought with just a hint of petty satisfaction. Hardly anything, including the breakup of the superhero team, could ever be laid to one person’s account, but if Steve had only trusted Tony more, things might have been so different. 

She set all that aside. It didn’t matter for the moment. Half the universe being gone didn’t matter to her, for the moment. All that mattered was Tony, so thin and frail she was afraid she might break him if she held on as tightly as she wanted to. His skin was dry and tight and strangely warm-feeling. Being Tony, he was fighting to hold on to consciousness, to fill them in, while they undressed him. Pepper didn’t recognize the red leather-ish jacket he wore, but it made sense no matter where he was in the universe, he would find a coat.

Bruce rolled in as they were getting Tony, slipping into a stupor, in bed and started an IV; his skill with needles and other fine things, with huge green fingers, never failed to astonish Pepper. Rhodey said, “I’ll go threaten them with grave bodily harm if they disturb him,” and slid out of the room. 

That suited Pepper just fine. She perched in a chair by the bed, to keep watch. Tony lay unnervingly still for a few minutes, before he began to shiver, even under covers. Pepper got up to get him another blanket, but there were no more in the room, and she couldn’t bring herself to leave him—what if he woke up alone? Rhodey hadn’t come back (she suspected he was reading the other Avengers the riot act). Her eyes fell on the dark red jacket she had tossed carelessly over the chair, more focused on easing him into bed than in where his filthy clothes had landed. She scooped it up and spread it over him on top of the covers, then sat back down as he settled and seemed to drop into a deeper, more restful sleep.

A rustle at the door drew her attention after a while. It was the blue girl, standing uneasily, as though uncertain where she should be. Pepper smiled and introduced herself. The girl’s name was Nebula. “You’re the one he always spoke about,” she said. “He loves you so much. Every minute, he was fighting to get back here, to you.” Her hand brushed over the jacket. It had, she told Pepper, belonged to the captain of the ship, Nebula’s sister’s lover, who had crumbled to dust fighting Thanos alongside Tony. “Quill was an idiot, but a brave one. I think he would like for Tony to keep this.”

Nebula finally left when Natasha arrived with sandwiches. “Steve was all for getting Tony into a team meeting as soon as he was physically able. That isn’t going to happen anytime soon, especially now that Rhodey ripped him a new one.” The spy looked at Tony, then dropped her eyes. “None of us knew, really, what he’d been through, Pepper, even before this—before Thanos…” She set the plate down beside the bed. “I don’t know about anybody else, but I won’t let him be taken for granted again. If we had listened to him, I don’t know that things would have turned out any better, but they certainly wouldn’t have been any worse.”

“I wish you had come to that realization sooner,” Pepper said. Natasha nodded, and turned to go. “Natasha?” The receding back halted. “Thank you.”

Pepper hated to eat in front of Tony, even while he slept. She fancied the smell of peanut butter on toast might penetrate his drowse, and he couldn’t tolerate solids yet, according to Bruce. She did, though, and then settled as comfortably as was possible in the chair. She needed to get up and adjust the air conditioning before Tony woke; she felt chilly herself, so how much worse would he feel. She resolved to do that, after she sat for a moment and let the sandwich settle…

She woke with a start, unsure how much time had elapsed. Tony was turned on his side in the bed, facing her. The sheets were a mess, and his hand, the one with the IV needle lodged in the back, clutched a blanket pulled up almost to his chin. Pepper frowned, her gaze scanning the scene in search of the red jacket, until she realized it had somehow gotten wrapped around her shoulders. Who had done that? Surely Tony hadn’t hauled himself out of bed—but the covers were kicked everywhere, and a little blood dotted the skin and bandages around the IV, as though he had pulled against it.

Tony’s other hand hung half off the bed, twitching slightly, as though trying to reach out. Pepper folded her hand around it, arranged herself better in the chair, and nodded off again, gazing at her love, so fragile-looking and yet so very strong.

+++

The last battle was over. Thanos and his minions were dust, and those who had been dust were alive again. The world was getting itself back together, as was the rest of the universe from all reports. Every entity on every planet knew they would not have had this chance to start again, if Tony Stark had not almost died saving them all. The operative word there, Pepper would be eternally grateful to note, was _almost_. It had taken a few months for him to heal and regain his strength, but Tony was well at last.

She had wanted to marry him the minute he regained consciousness in the hospital in Wakanda, but he had flatly refused. “I am not promising assorted chunks of barely-functional flesh to you, Potts, and don’t try to talk me into it, your feminine wiles are not gonna work this time. We’ve waited this long, we can wait a little longer. I will stand on my own two feet when I marry you.”

What Tony called feminine wiles, Pepper called common sense, but either way, this was one time he would not be moved. So, she had waited, and finally, the day was here. For once, an event was going off that Pepper had not had to plan and organize. Surprisingly, Natasha had stepped up to take charge. She confided she had once gone undercover as a party planner, and had found in herself an unforeseen knack for wrangling the details and a totally unexpected enjoyment of setting up happenings where the worst-case scenario was a stray cow knocking over the cake table, instead of half a European capital city exploding. 

Pepper was hopeful that things would work out. If they didn’t, hey, it was the Avengers; the Avengers who had screamed and cried, thrown things and begged, and finally, finally gotten on the same page just in time to save the day. If she closed her eyes, she could see them throwing themselves across the field of battle, amid the ruins of their compound, reaching for Tony, joining hands, and taking the force of the Infinity Stones, together. 

One last check in the mirror, one last turn to eye the simple white dress, and Pepper picked up her bouquet and headed for the door. No matter how Tony had pleaded, she had put her own foot down about one thing: she was _not_ getting married in the Rescue suit.

The air outside was pleasantly warm as she stepped outside, down the porch steps and toward the lake. Lining either side of her path were heroes human and not, but Pepper only had eyes for the man standing at the water’s edge, with Rhodey by his side subtly supporting him. It was all a blur from there, the vows, the rings, the kiss, the cheers; Tony’s hands holding hers like he was never going to let go, the left warm and soft and proudly bearing the sign of their union, the right red and gold nanotech but still his. She had pondered whether she could persuade him to make a nanoskin cover for it, but when she looked up into his eyes, brimming with unshed tears of joy, looking even bigger than usual, she remembered she didn’t care, as long as she had him. She freed one hand to cup his right cheek; scarred though it was, she loved those scars, loved what they meant, loved how they shouted of his determination to stay with her. He bravely held the tears back until then, and she kissed them away as they streaked down his face.

There was food and drink later, and music and dancing. The Wakandan guests practically put on an exhibition, to the joy of everyone else. When the evening wind began to blow off the lake, though, Pepper realized maybe vanity wasn’t such a good look on her, nor were goosebumps. She hadn’t wanted a wrap, or even a shawl, wanting to show off her wedding dress, but now she was wishing otherwise. She shivered a little, looked around, and wondered if she would be missed if she slipped back to the house long enough to grab a shrug, until something fell softly across her shoulders and she glanced over at the satin lapels of Tony’s tux jacket. A hand reached into her field of sight, hot-rod red and gold, and she took it and stood with a smile, for one more dance, before they shooed everybody off, and went to bed for the first time as husband and wife.

+++

The universe was getting back to normal, or what passed as normal in a world of gods and aliens and men in tin cans. Pepper did wish spacecraft would stop landing on her compost heap, though. It was an awful mess to have to clean up, although in the case of the Guardians’ visits, Nebula’s friend Drax was always more than willing to help.

She sipped her tea and stroked her belly, nervous but eager to meet the new life growing there. Happy and Tony had just left for a meeting with a group of young inventors pitching a new green energy tech approach, so she walked out onto the porch to be sure no stray coffee cups had been left. No cups were there unattended, but something more important was: Tony’s jacket. It was one of his favorites, an oversized red hoodie with a plaid lining that Peter had given him. Pepper set her tea down and pulled her phone out.

::Tony, you forgot your jacket!:: she texted. ::tell Happy to turn around::

In just a few seconds her phone buzzed with an incoming reply. ::I’ll be fine Pep. Don’t worry about me::

She huffed. He was so stubborn sometimes. ::First of all, my full-time job is worrying about you:: she responded. ::Second of all, you literally are ALWAYS cold. I don’t want texts in an hour complaining about how cool the breeze is:: She really didn’t mind if he texted her complaining about the breeze, other than being concerned he would get sick, and hating for him to be uncomfortable.

::I’m not always cold!:: he argued.

With a long-suffering sigh, Pepper texted ::Then explain why you ALWAYS bring a jacket with you no matter where we go::

 _Score_ , she thought and took a satisfied sip of her still-warm tea.

This time Tony’s retort was nothing she would have expected. ::Miss Potts:: (and it amused her that he still called her that, when it suited him) ::who always ends up wearing that jacket?:: Pepper frowned at the phone and started to type a rejoinder, but another message came in before she could finish hers. ::You’re too stubborn to bring it for yourself and admit you get cold too. I bring it for you, dear::

That was a great excuse, but it couldn’t be the truth. ::But you’ve been insistent on bringing a coat with you for years. Like, since before we started dating::

She could almost hear the hint of smugness in Tony’s voice, just reading the words of his reply. ::Just because you were my assistant didn’t mean I didn’t notice your habits. Couldn’t have my right hand catching an avoidable cold:: The smug was there, and so were the words he did not say. One of these days, Pepper resolved, she was going to ask Tony exactly how long he had been in love with her. She hoped it was something close to the length of time she had been in love with him, and she suspected that it might be.

::You are obnoxiously romantic sometimes:: she texted him. ::I love you, be safe tonight::

Pepper slid her arms into the jacket, flipped the hood up and snuggled into the soft Tony-smelling fabric. Her phone went into the big front pocket. She picked up her tea and made her way to her favorite chair, easing down with an _oof_. A breeze teased her, but she was safe and warm. She drank her tea, and enjoyed the peace.

**Author's Note:**

> Based on https://twitter.com/punkscuIIy/status/1137949867446157312
> 
> I saw this wonderful tweet the other night, and was immediately inspired! I asked punkscully's permission to bring the idea to life and they kindly consented. The text exchange between Pepper and Tony in the last segment of the story comes from that tweet.
> 
> You can see now why I tagged the story as both Endgame compliant and Endgame non-compliant. lol. It's compliant up till Tony gets home from Titan, then takes its own path to the finale and beyond.
> 
> ETA, so many people have happily commented on the wedding section and the casual mention of the Avengers' defeat of Thanos, that I am now writing an offshoot story covering the battle of the compound to the wedding in more detail! It's called In A Yellow Wood, from the Robert Frost poem The Road Not Taken, and that makes this story part 1 of a series, sort of (LOL) now called Two Roads Diverged, after the first line of that poem.


End file.
